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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29212290">lost ones</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatabloodrush/pseuds/whatabloodrush'>whatabloodrush</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Anxiety, Banter, Black Hermione Granger, Drunk Gryffindors, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Hermione is stressed tf out, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Neville is a Cinnamon Roll, Post War, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Remus/Hermione if you squint, Rita skeeter is a bitch, Slow Burn, Therapy, Time Travel, Trauma, luna means well</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:28:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,444</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29212290</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatabloodrush/pseuds/whatabloodrush</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The mind healer that Remus had recommended she see called it performing. </p><p>What else was she fucking supposed to do? Everything was back to normal. Wasn’t she supposed to be normal too? </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger &amp; Harry Potter, Hermione Granger &amp; Harry Potter &amp; Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger &amp; Remus Lupin, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black/Hermione Granger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. tell me how</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b> <em>July 15, 1998</em> </b>
</p><p>Hermione Granger didn’t <em>run. </em> </p><p>From danger, maybe. To class, <em> definitely. </em>For fun? Absolutely not. </p><p>Ron mumbled in his sleep as she untangled herself from him, from the warmth of his chest, the tight grip of his arms. He rolled onto his stomach, gripping the sheets to his chest, his cheek pressed into her pillow. </p><p>Hermione quickly and silently pulled on her leggings, grabbing an old sports bra and one of Ron’s old Quidditch jerseys. She laced up her trainers and made her way down the stairs, pulling her hair back into a messy bun. She waved her wand at Walburga’s portrait, making sure the curtains were drawn. </p><p>Harry met her at the door, hands in the front pocket of his jumper. </p><p>“<em>Harry</em>,” she sighed. </p><p>“Hermione,” he echoed. </p><p>The last time she’d done this, she’d run so far that she didn’t know how to get home. She had to send a Patronus to Harry to come get her. When he found her, she was sitting on a park bench, knees clutched to her chest, crying hysterically. </p><p>They stared at each other for a while, before Hermione let out a huff and opened the door, taking off at a jog. Harry put some distance between them, even though she was pretty sure he was the better runner. He was the athletic one, what with all of his Auror training. She paced herself as she ran, arms pumping, short breaths escaping her mouth. </p><p>She had night terrors. They all did. She’d woken up that morning with a weight on her chest, unable to feel her fingers and her toes. She knew what dissociating was and she tried to explain it to Ron the first time it happened--he thought she’d been petrified again, but he didn’t understand. </p><p>So. She ran. Harry ran with her. </p><p>She pumped her arms and legs harder, relishing in the burning sensation she felt in her muscles. Sweat pooled on her lower back and her upper lip. Her hair was probably frizzy now, trying to escape the hair tie. </p><p>She made it to three miles. They made it to a small plaza and Hermione collapsed on the first patch of green she found. </p><p>Harry sat down beside her, chest heaving. </p><p>“Training for a marathon?” he asked, smiling at her. </p><p>“Yeah,” she said, letting out a breathy laugh. “Fuck being a wizard. I’m trying to become an Olympic athlete.” She laid back in the grass, tilting her face up towards the sky. </p><p>“What was it this time?” he asked after a long silence, taking off his glasses to run his hand over his face.</p><p>“Malfoy Manor. I think it’s because of the trial coming up.”</p><p>He was going to give her The Look. The ‘I’m Worried About You But I Don’t Want You to Freak Out Because I’m Worried About You’ look. Ron gave it to her a lot, even though he was trying to be helpful. So did Molly and Arthur and Neville occasionally. </p><p>Everyone did. </p><p>“Well. That makes sense,” he said finally. She turned to face him. “Are you nervous?” He definitely was not giving her The Look.</p><p>“Not nervous, no. Anxious, I suppose. I’d like to get all of this over with so I can move on with my life.” </p><p>Harry seemed fine with that answer, like that somehow let him know that she was okay, that she wouldn’t spontaneously combust. He slowly got to his feet and held his hands out to her. He helped her up and they made their way back to Grimmauld Place. </p><p>Harry, Ron, and Hermione had taken Sirius up on his offer to stay at Grimmauld Place. He didn’t like living alone and it wasn’t like living with a <em> parent</em>, so it worked out well. The four of them worked well together, and it felt like they were back in the Gryffindor Tower. It felt like home. </p><p>Normal. </p><p>When she and Harry stepped through the front door of Grimmauld Place, strong arms were crushing her. </p><p>She panicked for a moment, eyes wide, fingers extended, wand already in her grasp. </p><p>“Where the <em> fuck </em> were you?” Ron pressed his head in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply. “I woke up and you were--you weren’t there, I thought--” He gripped her tighter against his body, breathing ragged. “I--are you…” </p><p>“Fine,” Hermione finished. “I’m fine, Ron.” She took a deep breath. Trying to remember the steps. </p><p>
  <em> Breathe. Breathe again.  </em>
</p><p>Ron’s hands gripped the back of her shirt tightly. </p><p>
  <em> Use positive self-talk. Acknowledge the trigger.  </em>
</p><p><em> I’m having a panic attack, </em> she thought to herself. <em> I’m okay. I’m just having a panic attack.  </em></p><p><em> Use your five senses</em>, Terri had told her. <em> Five things you see, four things you feel, three things you hear, two things you smell, one thing you taste. </em>Harry was at her side now, gently trying to loosen Ron’s grip. </p><p>“Sirius’s leather jacket,” she murmured to herself. “My wand. Crookshanks. Harry’s trainers. Walburga’s portrait. The bar cart.” Distantly, she heard Harry call Ron’s name, telling him to let her go. </p><p>Funny, how Harry seemed to be the only <em>normal </em>one.</p><p>“<em> Ron</em>,” Harry said, his voice firm. “You’ve got to let her go. She’s okay.” </p><p>She felt like she was trapped. Again, under Bellatrix. There were phantom pains in her arm, she felt like she couldn’t <em> breathe </em>--</p><p>Sirius and Harry finally pulled Ron off and she pressed herself against the wall, heart racing. </p><p>
  <em> Just a panic attack, just a panic attack. Ron’s just scared. You’re home. You’re home. You’re safe.  </em>
</p><p>“Shit, Mione, I’m--” </p><p>“It’s okay,” she said quickly, tucking her wand into its holster. “I just--need a minute. Will you make me a cup of tea, Ronald?” she asked, clasping her hands together to hide the shaking. “I’m okay. Promise.” She gave him a tight smile. </p><p>“Yeah. Of course. Yeah.” He nodded and turned to go to the kitchen. Harry and Sirius turned to look at her. </p><p>Fuck. They were <em>both </em>giving her The Look. </p><p>“<em>Don’t</em>,” she said, frowning. “I’m fine.” Her hands trembled as she made her way to the stairs. “Please tell Ronald that I’ll take my tea in our bedroom.” </p><p>Ron had always been full of so much love: for her, for Harry, for friends and family, and everything that happened in the war had exacerbated that. He couldn’t stand to be away from them--Hermione especially. He still felt guilty about leaving when they were searching for Horcruxes. Felt even more guilty about the scar on her arm. </p><p>He was scared of losing her. <em> She </em>was afraid he’d get too close. </p><p>-------</p><p>
  <b> <em>July 30, 1998</em> </b>
</p><p>The Malfoys’ trial was fairly uneventful.</p><p>Narcissa and Draco were sentenced to house arrest. They also had to pay reparations to various Muggleborn families. Lucius had received a rather short sentence, in her opinion. Fifteen years, because he actively helped the Wizengamot. </p><p>There were no tremors. She didn’t even have a panic attack. She had been the perfect example of The Brightest Witch of Her Age. </p><p>She was sitting on the steps of the Ministry of Magic when he found her. Harry and Ron were off doing something, talking to someone, and she’d opted to sit on the front steps of the Ministry and wait for them. </p><p>“I’m not going to thank you, Granger.”</p><p>“I don’t expect you to,” she said, squinting as she turned to look at him. </p><p>“Good.” He waited a beat. Stared at her. Sighed. Sat down beside her. “You look like shit.”</p><p>Hermione laughed. It was loud and <em> big</em>, like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. She pressed a hand against her stomach, gasping for breath. </p><p>“Gods, and you’ve lost your mind as well.” </p><p>“You--you were just on trial for war crimes,” she said, gasping for breath, “and you’re telling me<em> I </em> look like shit?” </p><p>He was a fucking riot. Even when the entire world hated him, called for lifelong imprisonment in Azkaban, he still thought he was better than her. He still brought her back to that place, to being eleven years old, not knowing what to do with the kinky curls on her head, buck teeth. </p><p>God, he was a fucking <em> asshole</em>, but it was… Normal. </p><p>
  <span>Everyone thought she was something special. Fucking exceptional. The Brightest Witch of Her Age, and she was barely keeping it together. But to Malfoy, she was still just a know-it-all. Goody-two-shoes. Swot.</span>
</p><p>“Would you rather I lie to you? Stroke your ego?” He arched an eyebrow. </p><p>“Who the fuck is stroking my ego?” </p><p>“Uh… <em> everyone, </em>Granger. One-third of the Golden Trio, Brightest Witch of Her Age.”</p><p>“I didn’t <em> ask </em> for that, you prick.” She frowned. </p><p>They sat in silence. </p><p>“I know what you mean,” he said after a moment, abruptly standing to his feet, creating some distance. </p><p>“The fuck are you doing out here, Malfoy? Getting away with murder wasn’t enough?” The bass in Ron’s voice made her stand to her feet as well. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, scowl marling his face. </p><p>He looked rather nice today, even though he was probably going to try and murder Draco Malfoy. He always looked nice when he cleaned up, hair neatly styled, robes altered and fitted. </p><p>“Ron! Don’t cause a scene, mate,” Harry murmured, the eternal mediator. </p><p>“Weasel.” </p><p><em> "Death Eater</em>,” Ron hissed. Malfoy gave him a closed-lip smile, showing his hands into his pockets. </p><p>“Nice talk, Granger. Make sure to put a muzzle on your dog before you let him out next time, yeah?” He nodded at Harry. “Potter.” He walked to the Apparation point and Disapparated silently. </p><p>“Are you alright, Mione?” His gaze softened and his hands were gentle as he went to cup her cheek. </p><p>“I’m not a damsel in distress, Ron. We were just talking. He was--nice, actually” She closed her eyes as he pressed a kiss against her forehead, letting herself melt in his embrace, anyway. She’d never needed Ron to fight her battles--she’d been telling him that since they were eleven. She didn’t want his protection, either. </p><p>“Malfoy, nice? You’ve got to be kidding me,” he chuckled. </p><p>“Well, he did tell me I looked like shit.” A quick grin. </p><p>“Since it seems like we’ve avoided the <em> Third </em>Wizarding War, can we get home, then? There’s a birthday cake with my name on it.”</p><p>After going home and changing their clothes, they made their way to a Muggle pub. Harry had requested that his birthday stay a small affair, even though Molly insisted on inviting everyone to the Burrow. Luckily Ginny’d taken over, and it was just the four of them, Remus, Teddy, and Sirius. </p><p>“Pretty sure this is illegal, Moony,” Sirius said, tucking into the booth next to Hermione. “You’re not supposed to bring a <em> kid </em>to a pub, mate. Shall I call the Aurors?” Remus sighed. </p><p>“Dora is busy and Andromeda had a previous engagement. I don’t plan on drinking and--” He frowned. “<em>Why </em>am I explaining myself to you?” Sirius grinned. “You’re the one that took Harry to a pub! Not me!” </p><p>Sirius gasped. “<em>Traitor</em>.” </p><p>“I’m sorry, <em> what</em>?” They’d all turned their attention to Sirius and Remus now. “You’re gonna have to tell us the whole story now,” Ginny added with a grin. </p><p>“You weren’t supposed to tell anyone!” Sirius exclaimed. </p><p>“<em>No</em>, I wasn’t supposed to tell Lily and Prongs.” Remus bounced Teddy in his arms. </p><p>“You took me to a pub?” </p><p>“My favorite Muggle band was playing that night! Was I not supposed to go?” Sirius asked, incredulous. </p><p>“<em>Obviously</em>, you idiot.” Remus rolled his eyes. </p><p>Remus and Sirius had become like family to Hermione in the last few months. She was an honorary Marauder, Sirius had said. Like Lily. They reminded her of Harry and Ron--Sirius moreso than Remus, but after her parents, there’d been something… missing. </p><p>The group settled into comfortable conversation, Remus and Sirius regaling them with Marauders' tales that they hadn’t heard yet. It was nice, being here with them. Nobody knew her here. </p><p>It was easy to follow the conversation—to laugh when she was supposed to, roll her eyes when she was supposed to, give Ginny a knowing look.</p><p>The mind healer that Remus had recommended she see called it <em> performing. </em> </p><p>What else was she fucking supposed to do? Everything was back to normal. Wasn’t she supposed to be normal too? </p><p>“Hermione?” She vaguely recognized that Remus was talking to her now, and she hadn’t answered. </p><p>“Hmm? Sorry, just got lost in my thoughts for a moment, there. What’d you say?” She gave him a polite smile.</p><p>“I asked if you were excited to go back to Hogwarts?” </p><p>Was she?</p><p>Going back to Hogwarts was the Hermione Thing to do. It was the decision that made the most sense, but <em> still </em>. </p><p>Hogwarts used to feel like home. It used to be a safe space. It used to be where her friends were, where her family was, it used to be a special place to her. But now, when she closed her eyes and thought about Hogwarts, all she saw in her mind was Lavender and Fred, lifeless. </p><p>The basilisk. Death Eaters. Watching Snape die. </p><p>It wasn’t the same. Not anymore. </p><p>She took a breath and took a long sip. </p><p>She desperately wanted to tell them that she didn’t want to go. That she couldn’t go. Everyone was moving on and she was stuck in fucking quicksand. She didn’t want to be in the fucking classrooms or the Common Room or <em> anywhere </em>. </p><p>She smiled. She performed. </p><p>“Yeah, of course. It’s going to be weird without Harry and Ron, but I suppose I’ll manage.” </p><p>Sirius watched Hermione, eyes flicking down to her hands as they tremored, and she quickly tucked them underneath the table, into her lap.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. i've been stuck in the darkest age</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> <b>August 10, 1998 </b> </em>
</p><p>She really <em>loved </em>staying at Grimmauld Place.</p><p>The library was her favorite part. Nobody really bothered her in there, and Sirius had given her free reign to organize and reorganize, to set up a reading nook for herself. A comfy chair, maroon accent rug, side table, and kettle. There was also a place for Crooks to perch if he’d ever wanted to sit with her as she read. </p><p>But she really enjoyed staying at Grimmauld Place because there were so many Muggles. She didn’t have to worry about the stares, the nods, and the smiles, Rita fucking Skeeter. She could hold Ron’s hand or snog him on a bench, and nobody would fucking know. It wouldn’t end up in the Daily Prophet. </p><p>“Why did we come here again?” Ron sighed for the second time, frowning as he looked up at the menu on the wall. </p><p>“We came because they have those cinnamon scones Sirius likes, the chocolate pastries Harry likes, the Danishes <em> you </em>like, and they make the best espresso.” </p><p>“Who drinks espresso?” </p><p><em> "Me</em>,” she said, elbowing him in the stomach. “Jerk.” She smiled at him anyway and reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers. </p><p>“Don’t know how you drink that stuff, Mione,” he said with a shudder. “Makes me all jittery and gives me a headache.” </p><p>Hermione was silent as the line moved and they moved forward with it. Espresso was helpful when you were afraid to go to sleep. She couldn’t trust herself when she closed her eyes, so she settled on trying to stay awake as long as possible. </p><p>“Just used to it, I suppose.” Hermione shrugged once they got up to the counter. She gave the barista a bright smile. “Good morning! Can we get one cinnamon scone, one of the chocolate pastries, two danishes, and one caffé Americano?” </p>
<hr/><p>“You look <em>fine</em>, Hermione,” Ginny said with a sigh as Hermione ran the brush through her kinky curls one last time. “I don’t think you can make that bun any tighter.” She smoothed her hands through her hair as she gathered it at the back of her head, pulling it into a tight ponytail. Her fingers deftly made their way through her hair as she twisted it into a neat bun, tucking some hairs into the hair tie. </p><p>“Last time we went to the Leaky, Rita Skeeter said I looked <em> disheveled </em>.” She turned her head to the left and then to the right, huffed, and grabbed a few bobby pins. </p><p>“Rita Skeeter is a bitch.” </p><p>“Well--<em> yes</em>,” Hermione admitted with a smile. “I just don’t want to give her any more ammunition to use against me.” She turned to her bed, examining the outfit she’d picked out. She’d settled on a simple pair of jeans and a button-up cardigan. </p><p>Surely, Rita Skeeter couldn’t find anything bad to say about that. </p><p>After quickly getting dressed and applying some mascara and lip balm, they grabbed Harry and Ron and made their way to Hogsmeade. </p><p>Gods, it had just been a few months since she’d last been here. </p><p>She tried to steady her breathing as they walked through Hogsmeade. It wasn’t <em>crowded</em>, but there were just enough people to make her feel uncomfortable. There were a lot of smiles, a few children called out “It’s Hermione Granger!” and she did her best to give them a warm smile in return. </p><p>She was good. She was <em>fine</em>. </p><p>Her fingers twitched as she took an older woman’s hand to shake. </p><p>“Can I have your autograph? I want to be in Gryffindor just like you when I go to Hogwarts!” a little girl exclaimed, handing Hermione a journal and a pen. </p><p>Her hands trembled again as she tried to sign her name. </p><p>“Jill, was it?” Ron gently placed his hand over hers, trying to quell the shaking. He guided her to finish the O in her first name, smiling brightly at the young girl. “I hope you’re in Gryffindor too. The world could use a few more lions, yeah?” He winked, guiding her hand to finish the final letters in her last name. He handed the journal back to Jill. “It’s been so nice speaking to you, Jill, but we’re running late to dinner. Have a good night, yeah?”</p><p>Hermione gripped his hand tightly the rest of the way to the restaurant.</p><p>“Oh, Hermione,” Luna said once they walked inside, wrapping her arms around the other woman and giving her a tight hug. “I can’t even <em>see </em>your aura,” she sighed, hands going to her cheeks, looking into her eyes. “Would you like a sound bath?” </p><p>“Oh, Luna, you don’t have to--” </p><p>“I brought my singing bowl!” Hermione smiled at her anyway, thankful for the normalcy, at least. Luna’s fingers were warm as she pressed them against Hermione’s cheeks, and Hermione gripped her hands at the wrist.</p><p>“Thank you, Luna. Seriously.” </p><p>She gave Neville a tight hug before settling into a booth at the back of the bar. She was tucked in between Ron and Ginny, and she laid her head on Ginny’s shoulder as Ron pressed his hand against the top of her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. They sat and talked for a long time--stories about their classes, Quidditch matches, <em> Mrs. Norris</em>. Hermione had a nice buzz after about an hour and a half of drinking and laughing.</p><p>“Luna!” Neville exclaimed, waving his arms and nearly knocking over their drinks. “You’ve never been to a Gryffindor Get Together!” </p><p>“Neville, we agreed that was a <em> terrible </em>name,” Ginny groaned. </p><p>“Oh? What’s a Gryffindor Get Together?” Luna asked, the soberest out of all of them. </p><p>“We just get drunk in the Common Room.” Hermione laughed, covering her mouth with her hands as Neville gaped at her. </p><p>“We do more than <em>that</em>," Neville protested. “We get to know each other better! We solidify the bonds we’ve created as friends!” </p><p>Ron stared at him. Harry shook his head. Ginny booed him. </p><p>“We should go up to the castle! One last Gryffindor Get Together before Harry and Ron go off and leave us,” Neville continued, and Hermione reached for Ron’s hand under the table, squeezing it gently. </p><p>It was easy to forget that he was leaving. That he was leaving her behind. And she was excited for him, honest, but what the fuck were you supposed to do when the person you love is about to go live their dreams and you were barely holding on? </p><p>“Yeah,” Hermione said with a nod. “We should. One last time.” </p>
<hr/><p>They used one of the secret passageways into Hogwarts, giggling and covering their mouths like school children. After twenty minutes of stories, exploring their old classrooms, and a sound bath from Luna, they settled in the Room of Requirement. </p><p>It’d created the Gryffindor Common Room, and the six of them were engulfed in a sea of red. A comfy, red sofa, the fireplace was in the same place, the portraits, the pillows. Luna looked around, eyes wide. </p><p>“Welcome to your first Gryffindor Get Together, Luna,” Neville exclaimed, his arms wide. </p><p>They groaned. </p><p>Ginny rolled her eyes and pulled out a bottle of Ogden’s and a vial. </p><p>“Oh no,” Hermione sighed. </p><p>“Oh <em> yes </em> .” Ginny wiggled her eyebrows. “Just take a drop or two this time! Not the whole fucking vial.” She laughed as she passed the bottle of Ogden’s around, and they all took a sip. Hermione grimaced as the liquor made its way down, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. “Although I’m pretty sure <em> Luna </em> doesn’t need the veritaserum.” </p><p>“I don’t.” Luna beamed at them. “Hermione, truth or dare?” </p><p>“Yes!” Ginny clapped her hands together.</p><p>Shit. </p><p>“Truth.” Hermione sighed and opened her mouth as Ginny poured a few drops into her mouth.</p><p>“If you could do anything in the world, what would you do?” </p><p>The answer nearly came tumbling out of her mouth. </p><p>“D’you mean, like, careerwise?” </p><p>Luna blinked. </p><p>Of fucking course. </p><p>“I’d… I’d find a way to get my parents’ memories back,” she said quickly. “Open a bookstore.” Ron reached for her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. She gave him a close-lipped smile. She reached for the firewhisky, taking a long sip, before turning her attention to Harry. “Harry.” He gave her a nervous smile. </p><p>“Have you really forgiven Snape?” she asked. </p><p>“Yes,” Harry said, without missing a beat. “After everything… Yes.” He squared his shoulders and turned to Ron. “Who did you snog in the broom closet fifth year?” </p><p>“Fucking--you already know the answer to that!” He groaned. “Romilda Vane,” he muttered. </p><p>Harry grinned. </p><p>They went back and forth for a while, revealing secrets, sharing stories they’d already heard. At one point, Harry took a dare to fly across the Quidditch pitch naked. They all laid back in the grass. </p><p>“Hermione,” Luna whispered, reaching for her hands. She’d had quite a few shots of firewhisky, and her speech slurred as she reached for the other girl. “I feel like I should explain myself.” </p><p>“Explain?” </p><p>“About your aura.” She took a deep breath, fingers pressing gently on Hermione’s palm. “I thought the sound bath would help, but it’s so <em>dark</em>. Your aura, I mean. It’s covered in darkness.” </p><p>“Luna--” She needed her to stop talking. <em> Immediately. </em>She distantly heard Neville singing; Ron, Ginny, and Harry chuckling at him. </p><p>“I can’t imagine the pain you’re in,” Luna continued, massaging her hand now. “It can be so overwhelming. So heavy. Have you tried breath work? Or smudging? I know a woman that specializes in--” Hermione closed her eyes, trying to block Luna out. </p><p>She didn’t believe in fucking auras or breath work or whatever the hell Luna wanted her to do, but she knew Luna was right. She was in pain. It was easy to forget when she was with her friends, but when she closed her eyes, all she could were Dementors. The drawing room in Malfoy Manor. A dark blade. Snape bleeding out.</p><p>“Luna, <em> please</em>,” she gasped, hands trembling. “I can’t. Please.” </p><p>“I think I have black tourmaline in my bag, somewhere! That should help.”</p><p>“Harry!” she called, trying and failing to stand to her feet. She needed to go home. She needed to get out of her. She didn’t want a goddamn stone or a sound bath, she wanted to be in bed. She wanted to cuddle Crookshanks. Curl up with <em> One Hundred Years of Solitude </em>for the millionth time. “I need--I need to--” </p><p>“Yeah, Ron’s already thrown up on my trainers, so.” He sighed. </p>
<hr/><p>“Whoa there, kitten.” </p><p>Sirius caught her as she stumbled through the front door. He must’ve been just coming in, because he still had on his leather jacket, and she gripped the lapels, trying to catch her balance. </p><p>“I’m--I’m gonna--” Ron stumbled in after her, sidestepping her and running to the bathroom. </p><p>“Have a fun night drinking?” Sirius asked with a smile, leading her to the couch. </p><p>“Mmhmm.” Sirius sat down on the couch and she curled up next to him, head pressed against his shoulder. “We played veritaserum or dare.” She hiccuped and rolled her eyes. “I taught them how to play poker--I won, of course.” </p><p>“Of course.” He grinned, reaching and unlacing her trainers, helping her kick them off. She turned her head, her cheek pressing against his chest. </p><p>“You smell like… Cigars. And Remus.” She tucked her legs up under her, leaning closer. </p><p>He smelled good. Like tobacco. A hint of cinnamon. Oil, from his bike. As she snuggled closer to him, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. Sirius had stopped just being Harry’s godfather; he was also their <em>friend</em>. He left dishes in the sink and took too much time in the shower, but he cooked <em>sometimes</em>, and he always bought the espresso she liked. </p><p>“Sure you’re not an Animagus?” he asked playfully. Hermione let out a breathy laugh.</p><p>“I’m not!” she protested. “But you know what I am?” She abruptly sat back and spread her arms wide. “A dropout. A quitter.  A <em> failure </em>.” She threw her head back and started laughing.</p><p>She pressed her hands against her stomach as she fell back against the couch.</p><p>“What do you mean?” he asked, furrowing his brow. </p><p>“I owled Profess--<em> Headmistress </em>McGonagall this morning. Told her I’m not coming back to Hogwarts. It’s rather funny, ac--actually. Swot of the century dropping out of school. Rita Skeeter’ll have a fucking field day.” She laughed again. </p><p>It was a fucking joke. It had to be. She’d been so excited to even <em>go </em>to Hogwarts, and her parents had been all in. Really all in. She had friends, finally. <em> Finally</em>. She’d learned so much and she’d gone on adventures, and she helped defeat fucking Lord Voldemort, and now--</p><p>“I’m a fucking joke.” </p><p>She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t <em>breathe</em>. She needed Ron and Harry to literally walk down a crowded street. She couldn’t <em>function</em>. </p><p>“I’m--” A deep breath. Her voice shook. “I’m--” Her eyes burned and the rest of her words got caught in her throat. She pressed the heels of her palm into her eyes, letting out a strangled cry as Sirius reached for her, pulling her into his arms. </p><p>“Hermione.” His hands were gentle as he gripped her wrists, trying to pry her hands away from her face. “You’re not a joke,” he said softly. “You’re not a failure.” He cupped her cheeks, gray eyes gazing into hers. </p><p>Crying openly now, she ducked her head, trying to maneuver her way out of his grasp, but he held firm.</p><p>“You’re not a failure for doing what’s best for you.”</p><p>What would her life even be like? How would she get a job? How was she supposed to become Minister for Magic one day? What would she <em>do </em>all day? </p><p>Maybe she’d made the wrong decision.</p><p>“You are not a failure for doing what’s best for you,” he repeated, voice firm. </p><p>It was easy to say that, Hermione realized, than to deal with the shipwreck of her life. Dreams and goals, washed up, seemingly unattainable. She would never be able to do what she wanted because she’d deviated from the plan—she’d thrown it out of the fucking window.</p><p>Hermione pressed her face further into his chest, crying openly as Sirius held her in his arms.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks so much for the kudos and comments! keep them coming! hope y'all enjoyed :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. you make me feel like i am home again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b> <em>September 19, 1998</em> </b>
</p><p>She was nineteen today. </p><p>Or twenty. </p><p>She wasn’t sure. The Time-Turner complicated things. </p><p>Normally she’d already be back at Hogwarts, and they would’ve had something small in the Common Room. Seamus might’ve gotten his hands on some Firewhisky, Ginny would’ve tried to make her a cake. They would’ve talked and laughed. Her parents would’ve sent her favorite Muggle chocolate--the only time they would’ve let her had it. </p><p>This year, she was alone. </p><p>When she made her way downstairs to the kitchen, she found Remus, Sirius, and Teddy sitting at the table eating breakfast. There were Chelsea buns and a cup of espresso sitting at the empty spot for her. </p><p>“Morning,” she said with a yawn, reaching and ruffling Teddy’s lime green curls. “Thank you for breakfast.”</p><p>“Mini Moony, did you know that today’s a rather special day?” Sirius said suddenly, taking a sip of his coffee, and giving Teddy a bright smile. “It’s Hermione’s birthday today, and even though she <em> says </em> she doesn’t want a party--” </p><p>“<em>Sirius</em>,” she sighed. </p><p>“We can still get her to have some fun, don’t you think?” </p><p>She’d told them yesterday. She didn’t want a big party or lots of people or <em>gifts</em>. She wanted a new book and a nice dinner. Leave it to Sirius to completely ignore what she wanted. </p><p>“If you try to get me on that flying motorbike again, I’ll hex you.” </p><p>“So you’ve been thinking about it, kitten?” He looked at her over the rim of his mug, eyebrows raised.</p><p>“I have <em> not</em>.” Acutely aware of Sirius’s eyes on her, Hermione felt her cheeks get hot. Sirius watched her for a few moments, lips twitching before breaking out into a grin. </p><p>“Well, no matter.” He cleared his throat, setting the mug down. “Sir Moony, the parchment, if you please.”</p><p>Remus chucked and with a wave of his hand, a parchment appeared, floating in the air. </p><p>“This, kitten, is your birthday decree,” Sirius announced with a grin. “There will be book stores, Blokebuster--” </p><p>“<em>Blockbuster</em>,” Remus mumbled. </p><p>Sirius huffed and frowned at him. </p><p>“Apologies. Continue, Pads.” </p><p>“Thank you, Mister Moony.” He straightened his shirt. “As I was saying. <em> Blockbuster</em>. That cheesy, gooey pizza you like so much, <em> one </em>cigar--cause you’re an honorary Marauder and all, and a visit to your favorite pub.” </p><p>“Oh, that’s--you two don’t have to do that for me,” she said, before finally taking a bite out of her Chelsea bun. “Honest. I know Harry and Ron are at training, I can… Really, you don’t have to--” </p><p>“We <em>want </em>to, Hermione,” Remus interrupted. </p><p>She was worried that she wasn’t going to be any fun. </p><p>It was all too much, too nice. It was exactly what she wanted for her birthday, actually, just missing Ron and Harry, but she couldn’t let them <em>babysit </em>her. </p><p>“Come on, kitten. If not for yourself, do it for Mini Moony, then. He did wear his best onesie.” </p><p>Teddy was wearing a onesie covered in books. He let out a high-pitched squeal and grabbed onto Hermione’s curls, tugging. </p><p>“Fine,” she sighed. </p><p>-----</p><p>She <em>really </em>hated the smell of smoke. </p><p>“I know this won’t happen, but… I won’t cough up a lung, will I?” Hermione asked, eyes darting between Sirius and Remus. </p><p>“You won’t cough up a lung, kitten. Marauder’s honor.” </p><p>So far, her birthday had been… <em> fun.  </em></p><p>She’d expected to spend a lot of the day alone, at the bookstore or the coffee shop. She’d prepared herself to feel low today—she was normally at Hogwarts by now, getting a letter from her parents, with a sweet treat. She’d expected to feel lonely, to spend her time with her Walkman, blaring Nirvana as loud as she could.</p><p>But as she sat in between the two Marauders, waiting for Remus to hand her a cigar, she felt… <em> light. </em>Normal, even. </p><p>“First, you need to cut the cigar,” Remus began after handing her a cigar. He showed her how to use the cutter, gently guiding her hands to cut the first cap of the cigar off. He helped her light her own cigar, making sure she got an even burn. He then lit his own cigar and took a draw. “Don’t inhale the smoke,” he said after taking a puff. </p><p>“Pretend like you’re drinking through a straw, kitten,” Sirius advised.</p><p>She was going to cough up a lung, she was sure of it. </p><p>It wasn’t that she didn’t <em>trust </em>them, it was just her luck. </p><p>But she did what she was told anyway, carefully trying to pretend that she was using a straw, trying not to inhale any smoke. </p><p>After one draw, she doubled over, throat burning. The smoke burned her lungs and made her nauseous. She coughed as she tried to take a breath. Sirius was at her side, with a glass of water. </p><p>“That was fucking--<em> terrible</em>,” she gasped before taking a long sip. </p><p>“Yeah, you are <em>not </em>good at that,” Sirius mumbled with a grin. She rolled her eyes and reached for another slice of pizza. They were sitting on the front porch, enjoying the warm September breeze. Teddy was napping inside, and a baby monitor sat next to Remus. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, eating pizza, before Hermione wiped at her face and opened her mouth to speak. </p><p>“I’ve been thinking,” she began nervously, playing with the hem of the Clash t-shirt she was wearing. It was Sirius’s. “I should--get a job?” No. Not like a question. She wasn’t <em>asking </em>them for anything. “I’m going to get a job,” she said, voice firm. </p><p>“What are you thinking about doing?” Remus asked her. “Something research-based, maybe? You’d be good at that.” </p><p>He was right. She would be good at that, but she <em>couldn’t</em>. Not in the Wizarding World, at least, and she didn’t have the credentials or experience to do it in the Muggle world. </p><p>“I’m not sure,” she admitted with a sigh. She tensed, clutching her knees to her chest. “The owner of the rare bookstore I like to go to offered me a job.”</p><p>She waited for them to grimace. To give her That Look. To recommend <em>literally </em>anything else. </p><p>“D’you think they sell werewolf romance novels there?” Sirius asked innocently, grinning as Remus frowned at him. </p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p>“Happy birthday!” </p><p>There was confetti in her face. Some even landed in her mouth. Someone blew a party blower in her ear. </p><p>“Happy birthday, Mione!” </p><p>Harry and Ron were hugging her and then Luna and Ginny came in to hug her too, and then there was George and she saw Tonks in the crowd too, giving her an apologetic look. She froze in place, hands balled tightly into fists, shoulders up to her ears.</p><p>“Al<em>right</em>! Taking the birthday girl to get a drink.” She felt Sirius’s hands on her shoulders as he guided her to the bar. “Come on, kitten.” His hands were gentle as they traveled from her shoulders to her forearms, and then her hands. He squeezed once. “Breathe,” he said, squeezing her hands again. </p><p>Breathe. </p><p>Easier said than done.</p><p>She tried. Took one shaky breath, and then another. She dug her fingers into the palm of his hand. </p><p>“Can you order me a glass of water, please?” she asked before hesitantly releasing his hands. </p><p>“Of course, kitten.” He pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead and made his way to the bar. She made sure to keep him in her line of sight and stuffed her hands into her pockets. </p><p>“You okay?” Harry asked, coming up to stand beside her. </p><p>“Yeah.” She nodded. “Yeah, I am now. It’s just--” She sighed. “I didn’t want this, Harry.” She’d asked for something small. Just the three of them, Sirius, Ginny, Remus, and Tonks. The whole Weasley clan was there and Neville and Luna and some other people in the Auror program. “It’s too many people.”</p><p>“Ron got a little… <em> excited</em>.” Harry grimaced. </p><p>She sighed. </p><p>“Listen, I need to--” Harry opened his mouth to speak again, but then Ron’s strong arms were around her, and pressed a kiss against the side of her face. </p><p>“Fuck, I’m sorry, Mione,” he said, pressing another kiss to her face. “I wanted--I <em> want </em>you to have a good birthday. You should… you should be surrounded by people that love you.” </p><p>She pressed her face against his chest. </p><p>She should’ve wanted that. She should’ve wanted to see all of them. She should’ve wanted to be around all of them like Ron wanted her to. </p><p>“I can--I can try,” she said, the sound muffled into his shirt. </p><p>She could try. For Ron. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Did I go down a YouTube hole to figure the correct way to smoke a cigar? YES. Do I regret it? Nope. Hope y'all enjoyed the Sirius x Hermione fluff. The time travel starts SO SOON I PROMISE! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. tonight i'll lie awake feeling empty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b> <em>September 19, 1998</em> </b>
</p><p>Her body felt like it was made out of lead. </p><p>“S-sorry, what’d you say?” Hermione gave the other woman—Carol? Caryn?—a strained smile as she tried to remember the question she’d asked her. </p><p>“You’re really not going back to Hogwarts?” the woman asked. </p><p><em> Obviously the fuck not, </em>she wanted to say. </p><p>“No,” Hermione said with a smile, instead.</p><p>Luckily, she was in a small corner of the bar, Ginny was nearby, and she could see all the exits. Her back was to the wall, so she felt safe. Comfortable. Her wand was in its holster at her hip. </p><p>“When do you think you and Weasley’ll finally tie the not?” Travers asked her. </p><p>“Has Weasley always been such a prankster?” someone else asked her. </p><p>“So… what are you going to <em>do</em>, anyway?” another woman asked her. </p><p>“I heard Rita Skeeter’s writing a new book about you! Well, the three of you, I mean.” </p><p>She tried her best to answer, she really, <em> truly </em>did, but it was so overwhelming. People wanted answers to things she hadn’t even thought about, things she didn’t want to think about, things she <em>couldn’t </em>think about. </p><p>She needed a drink. </p><p>“I’ll tell Ron we need to leave,” Harry said with a sigh, reaching for her hand and squeezing gently. “I should’ve stopped him, I’m sorry.”</p><p>She was all nerves as Harry squeezed her hand. She was thankful for the contact, though, and used his grip as an anchor. </p><p>“He’s just--trying.” She took a long sip of her drink, wincing some as the firewhiskey made its path down her throat. “It’s fine, honest. I’ve had a good day. Besides, I should… try too, you know?” </p><p>“That’s bullshit, Mione, and you know it.” He turned to look at her, gaze serious. “I can see the tremors in your hand. And you’ve been drinking more than usual tonight. You’re not--” </p><p>Wow. Fuck him. </p><p>“I’m a <em> person</em>, Harry. A functioning human being, and I’m not <em>glass</em>. You’re not my dad, and I don’t need you to tell me what--” </p><p>“I’m not trying to tell you what to do!” </p><p>“I can take care of <em> myself </em>.” She’d always had to, being Muggleborn, and now without her parents. And she took care of Harry and Ron too, and she’d never minded that. They were her friends.</p><p>“Yeah?” he asked. “Then tell Ron about the runs. Tell Ron you want to leave. That this isn’t what you want. Hell, just leave <em> now </em>.” </p><p>Again: fuck him. </p><p>Harry deflated, shoulders sagging. He looked down at their hands: still intertwined, Hermione still holding on for dear life. Her eyes were burning, throat tightening, and she really did <em>not </em>want to cry right now. </p><p>“It’s okay not to be okay,” he said finally, voice soft. “It’s okay to ask for what you need.”</p><p>She focused on the bridge of his nose. She couldn’t bear to look at him. She resisted the urge to adjust his glasses--they always slid down too low, and she often reminded him to get a new pair or get them fixed. </p><p>“What do you need, Mione?” he asked, finally giving her permission. </p><p>“I need--<em> air</em>,” she said abruptly, releasing his hand and running out of the bar. </p><p>“Do you want to stay?” Sirius asked, a hand on her back. </p><p>She shook her head. </p><p>“Do you want to go home?” </p><p>She shook her head again. </p><p>“Can I take you somewhere?” </p><p>A nod. </p><p>“You’ll have to side along.” </p><p>Sirius had apparated them to a forest? Campground? She wasn’t exactly sure. But she let go of his arm after he led her to a clearing, and sat down next to him. She tucked her knees into her chest, thankful for the silence. The space. </p><p>“If you say ‘I’m sorry about your birthday,’ I’m going to fucking <em> scream. </em>”</p><p>They sat on a patch of grass, faces turned toward the sky.</p><p>“Noted, kitten.”</p><p>Sirius took a moment to look at her, longer than normal, his grey eyes inspecting her carefully. He took a flask out of his jacket pocket and took a long sip before handing the flask out to her. She took it without hesitation, taking a long sip before gasping as the Ogden’s went down.</p><p>She felt her heartbeat steady. Her hands had stopped shaking and she’d lost that tingling feeling in her toes. She could <em>breathe, </em>finally. </p><p>“Where are we?” Hermione asked after passing the flask back to him. </p><p>“Isle of Harris,” he said, turning to look at her. “My uncle Alphard took me camping here once.” </p><p>“Wizard camping or <em> camping camping </em>?” She stretched her legs out before turning to look at him. He had his face turned up to the stars.</p><p>“The fuck’s camping camping?” he chuckled, furrowing his brow.</p><p>“Like did you make an actual fire yourself or did you use magic?” Her lips twitched as she tried to hold back her laughter. </p><p>“That’s not a thing. You’re fucking with me, aren’t you, kitten?”</p><p>Hermione laughed, and it felt lighter than it had been for months. It hadn’t been forced or planned at the right moment. Not a beat later because she hadn’t been paying attention. It felt real. Easy. </p><p>“I mean, have you really been camping then?” She took another swig from the flask.</p><p>“Have <em>you </em>really been camping then?” </p><p>Did the Forest of Dean count? She wasn’t sure.</p><p>“<em> Gods </em>no. My parents are dentists. They don’t-- <em> didn’t </em>--” Hermione took in a shaky breath, trying to steel herself. She didn’t want to cry about them, now especially. She could do this. She could fucking do this. “They didn’t know anything about that. Most of what I know comes from books anyway.” </p><p>“We should go then. Camping.”</p><p>She paused as he handed the flask back to her. Was he asking her to… hang out? </p><p>“We’re doing it the right way, then. No magic.” </p><p>“I’d expect no less from you, kitten.” He grinned and she took another long sip. </p><p>They sat side to side, faces upturned to the sky. She drank while Sirius pointed out stars and constellations. He was surprised that she didn’t know much about astronomy. She could really only tell you the phases of the moon, and found it difficult to identify the stars. </p><p>“You can say it now.” Her voice was soft when she spoke, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. They’d finished off the flask a while ago, and she was most definitely drunk. Apparently, it took Sirius a lot <em>more </em>to get drunk, which was fine. Someone had to Apparate home. She wasn’t fit in this condition. </p><p>“Hmm?” </p><p>“You’re sorry about my birthday,” she said, closing her eyes. “You can say it now.” </p><p>“I’m sorry about <em>half </em>of your birthday. My half was perfect.” </p><p>She laughed again, pressing herself closer to him. She felt his arm wrap around her shoulders, and she took a deep breath, smelling the tobacco and the whiskey on his jacket. </p><p>If she were a better person, she’d be able to realize that people <em>probably </em>didn’t cuddle up to their best friends’ godfathers like this. But he was more than just Harry’s godfather, wasn’t he? He wasn’t like Molly and Arthur or McGonagall. </p><p>He was… different. </p><p>“Your half was perfect,” Hermione said after a long silence. She opened her eyes and turned to look at him, fingers brushing against his beard. </p><p>She kissed him then, because it seemed like the perfect thing to do in this situation. Her lips were gentle as they pressed against his. Hesitant, even. </p><p>She could’ve sworn that he was kissing her back. </p><p>“Hermione,” Sirius murmured against her lips. He steadied a hand on her waist as she tried to straddle him, to be closer to him, to feel <em>more</em>. “Hermione.” His voice was tight as he gently pushed her away.</p><p>“Please,” she begged breathless, gripping his hair and settling in his lap. </p><p>It was her <em>birthday </em>and she needed to feel something. Something other than debilitating anxiety or claustrophobia, or the need to pack up and <em>run</em>, fast. She wanted to feel <em>good</em>.</p><p>“Let’s get you home, yeah?” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wow! Long time no see. I'm so sorry for the slow update. The past few months have been a whirlwind with my mental health and also trying to keep up with work! Thank you so much for commenting and reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Appreciate y'all &lt;3</p>
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